


Transformation

by Kol



Category: Dollhouse
Genre: Altered Mental States, Canon Backstory, Gen, POV Third Person Limited, Permanent Injury, Yuletide 2014
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-19
Updated: 2014-12-19
Packaged: 2018-03-02 05:30:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2801303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kol/pseuds/Kol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She wakes up, confused</p>
            </blockquote>





	Transformation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [millari](https://archiveofourown.org/users/millari/gifts).



"What should we do about her?" a male voice – high pitched and rapidly-paced – broke through her haze.

"What do you mean, Mister Brink?"

She tried to open her eyes - there was something about that woman's voice that she knew she should obey – but her eyelids felt glued shut. She wanted to turn her head, but it was also stuck, so she listened instead.

"Well, she's- she's… you know!" the male sounded agitated.

"No longer able to live up to our admittedly high expectations?" the woman replied sardonically.

"Yes, that."

"We'll have to find another use for her, I suppose."

"Well that sounds like a delightful prospect." She could hear the sarcasm in the man's tone, and she knew that the stern woman wouldn't like it.

"I didn't ask you your opinion."

"No, but seeing as how I'm going to be the one who has to reprogram her, you're still asking me to find a convenient hole to dump her down…"

"As opposed to what you do on a daily basis?"

"That was before Al-"

"Enough." The woman's voice was even more frosty than before, and the tone chilled her to the bone. She desperately wanted to respond, and perhaps in some way she did, as the voices were suddenly much closer.

"Take care of this, Mister Brink." The woman demanded.

"Whatever you say, Boss Lady."

)*(

"Saunders?" the frosty woman was back.

"You have a better plan?" that was the one who had called her "boss-lady."

"Well my intention was to simply hire a new doctor, as that is the general option that Human Resources prefers, but by all means do explain your logic."

" _You_ wanted something done with her. I have a baseline profile for Saunders from when he was hired. One plus two equals the square root of nine."

The woman paused, apparently considering this. Finally she said, "Well Saunders was always protesting about how dangerous some of the missions were; this would be a welcome reduction in his interference."

"I choose to interpret that as, 'why yes, another brilliant idea, Topher!'" the young man replied brightly.

"That is your prerogative."

"I choose to interpret that as 'stunning solution to our problems as usual, Topher! I don't praise you nearly enough for the amount of work that you do for us."

"You have an interesting grasp of reality, as ever, Mister Brink."

"I choose-"

"That said," the woman cut him off quickly, but more gently than before "this is a good plan. Implement it now."

"Righty-o, Boss Lady!"

A moment later, she felt a sharp pinch in the back of her neck. Then everything went black.

)*(

"How are you feeling, Doctor Saunders?" Topher asked calmly.

"What happened?" Claire demanded, trying to sit up.

"Woah" He immediately reached for her arms, holding her down. Claire wanted to fight him off – the idea of being held down was terrifying for reasons she couldn’t quite articulate – but a massive burst of pain through her head stalled the movements. "Don't get up!" Topher protested, worry in his voice. "You'll probably have a nasty headache!"

That was the understatement of the century, but Claire stopped resisting. "What happened?" she demanded again.

"Alpha had an incident. You were called here to help. He… er… attacked you. You don't remember?"

As he said the words, she did remember – glimpses and flashes of memory trickling through the migraine-induced haze. She lifted a hand to her head, to quell the pounding ache, but her arm was intercepted. Surprisingly strong fingers gripped her wrist.

"Y- you, uh, don't want to do that," Topher's voice was barely above a whisper. Despite her dislike of the young man, Claire felt herself obeying him. The tension slipped from her arm, and after a moment Topher released it.

"What happened?" She asked, as calmly as she could manage.

"Alpha attacked you," he reiterated. "He, uh… um… j- just don't touch your face. I- I'm n- not as good as you at the medical-"

" _You_ treated me?" Claire couldn't keep the bite out of her voice.

"I happen to have an excellent grasp of basic medical procedures and a PHD in neuroscience, both of which are beside the point because the EMT actually stitched you up but I did change your bandages and I was given specific instructions not to let you pick at them."

Topher's voice sped up as he talked, but her typical annoyance at him faded as Claire realized that he hadn't been the one to work on her. She wasn't sure why, but she found the idea of him touching her repulsive. The knowledge that he hadn't was a relief, and despite the news she had just gotten, Claire felt the tension streaming from her body. The incident with Alpha was still only coming to her in flashes, and her head ached abominably, but contrarily, she felt better.

"What did the EMTs say?" She asked. Her throat was dry, and she wanted some water, but she also refused to ask Topher for it.

"They'll be back in five days to remove the stitches." Claire couldn't see him, but she knew that he was ticking off the instructions on his fingers. "Give you four Tylenol three times a day. Change the dressings daily. If the cuts are more red, swollen, or leaking pus, I should call them back immediately."

Claire started to frown, but the movement caught at her stitches and tugged painfully. She couldn't fault his instructions, and though it galled her to be the treated instead of the treater, she had to admit that he was caring towards the bodies in his care. Just not the minds.

No, that wasn't quite fair either, though Claire had no idea why she was defending the man. He had improved the imprinting process drastically, causing less pain to the dolls both physically and emotionally. He was a caring person – sort of.

Still, the idea of empathizing with someone like him made her stomach churn more than the idea of what Alpha had done to her, and Claire just wanted to get back to her office and her routine as soon as possible. "Fine, can I get back to my office now?"

"If you like." 


End file.
